


the Haunted Brownstone

by Eva



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:56:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2426195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eva/pseuds/Eva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>fluffy Halloween ficlet because I can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the Haunted Brownstone

It began with a single, small pumpkin Marcus gave to Joan after finding it on his desk. He couldn’t have known. He wasn’t into Halloween; it was kid’s stuff, silly and kind of, well, childish.

Unless you were a consulting detective, apparently, judging by the new and improved Haunted Brownstone.

“Did you raid a pumpkin farm?” he demanded, stopping short of the jack-o-lantern’d stairs.

Joan shrugged, not looking that impressed despite the tens of meticulously carved pumpkins awaiting them. “Old family friends with a farm upstate. A lot of the greener or more misshapen ones don’t sell, so they give them away.”

“Wait.” A horrible suspicion was taking hold of Marcus. “This is you?”

Joan’s eyebrow arched. “Did you forget I was a surgeon?”

.

The inside of the brownstone was Sherlock. It had to be. Marcus could recognize some of these crime scenes. “This is ridiculous.”

“This is Halloween,” Sherlock corrected, and Marcus knew, somehow before he turned around what he would see, and yet was still not prepared.

“Jesus--Sherlock!”

“Zombie Sherlock,” Sherlock corrected, poking at the chunks of rotted flesh hanging from his face. “Realistic, yes? Stage makeup. I have a friend--”

“This is the third iteration of Sherlock the Corpse,” Joan interrupted, taking Marcus’ arm. “And not the best. He had a fairly realistic hole in his skull last night.”

“A compliment?” Sherlock’s ravaged brow looked even worse wrinkled in disbelief. “From the woman who told me my disembowelment was amateurish at best?”

“We have pumpkin bars and fake blood smoothies, too,” Joan said, ignoring him and leading Marcus from crime scene to horror movie laboratory.

.

Even the roof wasn’t safe from Halloween-ification.

“Don’t the neighbors complain?” Marcus asked half-heartedly, over the low chorus of groans from some unseen speaker.

“They’ve actually tried to get invited to the party they think we’re having,” Joan sighed. The fake fog drifted over the edges of the building, breaking up before it could create any sort of dramatic effect below. It was almost peaceful. “You haven’t said anything about my costume.”

“Your costume?” Marcus repeated, and turned to look at her. As always, impeccably stylish, Joan wore black, with a few bright red accents that made Marcus’ stomach tighten in a very nice way. Even red lipstick, which he’d noticed before, but hadn’t... “Oh.” She was smiling now, a dangerous grin, and he finally noticed the fangs. “Um.”

“I’d make a cheesy vampire joke, but I know you don’t like Halloween,” Joan said, her voice low and grin widening as she moved closer.

Marcus couldn’t find the breath to say it, but this Halloween seemed better than usual.


End file.
